


And We Drop Anchor In The Universe, Together

by shopfront



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, canon coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each others dreams, we can be together all the time.</em> Friends can become a bigger part of us than we realise, until that comfort is torn away, and then we find we need to anchor ourselves in the thought of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Drop Anchor In The Universe, Together

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to svgurl for the last minute beta. Written for the prompt: Gaila and Uhura, _'I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each others dreams, we can be together all the time.'_ \- Calvin and Hobbes.

The stars drift past her fingers as she watches them, outstretched like they can grasp their light in the palm of her hand and pull it close, let it warm her.

She's cold. Her body is wracked with shivers - she hurts - but somehow she can't feel the movement. It's like she's stuck, frozen in time, reaching out to the universe.

She drifts. The lights that pinprink the black, they're so beautiful. They make every part of her sing with happiness.

Time passes and she admires the view as she drifts, calm. So very calm. It's cold and she hurts, but somehow it doesn't seem very important when she's bathed in the light of the universe. Her head tilts back of its own accord, and she admires the new sweep of stars and planets the shift brings into view.

The more she looks, she more she sees, and with each new spot of light she's reminded over and over again why she wanted to join Starfleet. Each bright spot sings to her of beauty and possibility - peoples, languages, cultures - and each one makes her quiver with delight.

Something soft wraps around her fingers while she isn't looking, and she smiles, playing with it and delighting in the feel of it against her skin. With a great heave of effort she slowly brings her head back forward to look...

Her hands are tangled in red hair.

She wakes up screaming.

* * *

Spocks hands are on hers, dragging her screaming back into consciousness.

"Nyota," he practically barks at her, the slightest of furrows between his eyebrows, as he pulls her into a sitting position. As soon as she's balanced he drops her hands as if they're burning, still pressing one against the small of her back to keep her upright while she gasps for breath.

Her lungs are burning (as if there was no oxygen, just a dark nothingness at her lips) to match the rough pain in her throat. Spock's other hand twitches as it hovers over her hands, but he doesn't let them touch again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she gasps as tears well in her eyes, and suddenly she's fighting with her fists, pushing and shoving, at what she knows not.

To be held (oh god, oh please, take this pain away).

To break free (no, no, no, not to float in nothingness).

To stop inflicting more pain, where so much already lies (_she didn't lose her planet_).

"It is illogical to apologise because you fear for your friend," Spock murmurs, and the seeming loudness of his voice cuts through her mounting hysteria.

She stills, huddled on the edge of his bed - so many people on board and so many damaged, inhospitable quarters - pushing him away to arm's length, balanced on a knife-edge of indecision. But the press of Spock's knuckles against her spine and the tug of her nightclothes between his fist and the skin of her back breaks her down, and she unlocks her elbows, lets him guide her close again.

It feels like she's crashing into his chest after a long run, despite barely moving more than a few handspans, the feel of another body pressed against hers a shock. His chest is warm beneath her cheek, and she fists her hands in his uniform as his hand is fisted at her back - a compromise, she tells herself, as he wraps her in his arms without touching skin to skin - and lets out a dry sob.

"It was so real," she whispers, and a single tear rolls down her cheek as her voice cracks. "It was like I was there, with her, and I knew. I knew there wasn't any chance she'd survived. Because I was there with her."

For a second she expects him to rock her, or stroke her hair, but he does neither. He simply sits with her, his arms locked around her. A steady, solid reassurance. Something around which she can reorient.

An anchor against the stars.

Later, when she can stand straight for herself again, she thanks him. But Spock merely looks back at her for a long moment, then inclines his head and echoes her words before leaving.

* * *

Uhura visits Starfleet Medical every day for a fortnight before Gaila opens her eyes.

She misses the exact moment - not that she minds much, she's dreamed it over and over ever since she'd heard of Gaila's rescue - because she's buried in a copy of an ancient Vulcan text (now crushed into nothingness and lost forever), but somehow she feels it. Gaila's eyes are on her; she looks up.

Gaila immediately opens her mouth, but her voice simply croaks. She doesn't stop trying until Uhura presses a hand down firmly over her lips, laughing as she calls a nurse.

"You're alive," Uhura whispers to her as they wait for someone to arrive, her face already beginning to ache from smiling. "You're alive."

"I dreamt of you," Gaila says in broken pieces once they've brought ice chips for Uhura to feed to her, her hand wrapped tightly around Uhura's forearm, her grip refusing to slacken. "I dreamt of the Enterprise exploding, with you on it."

"Sshh," Uhura murmurs, and pushes Gaila's hair back off of her face, tangling it in her fingers as she fights it into submission. "We're back together now, and everything's going to be okay."


End file.
